Becoming Clarence
by HELLO I'M
Summary: Short one-shot. Castiel had chosen the name tied to a demon, what had he been thinking? Could be taken as Megstiel, could be taken as friendship. Whatever you choose.


**Becoming Clarence**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.**

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_"What's your name?" _The man had asked. It was not a hard question, in fact, it was human common curtsey and he was human. It was a painful revelation, his Grace had been stolen from him like it was nothing, like it didn't connect him with Heaven. Grace was everything, it was good and pure and Heavenly and powerful, something so strong should not have been so easily taken.

_"What's your name?" _The man had asked. His first reaction was to introduce himself as Castiel, an Angel of the Lord. But Castiel was the name of an angel, and angel he was not. He was human. He'd been forced from his home with a price on his head. Any angels who were lucky enough to keep any sort of power would be after him, would want his head on a pike like he was a medieval criminal.

_"What's your name?" _The man had asked. He wasn't Castiel, he couldn't be. His next name of choice was Emmanuel. The name he had taken when he'd forgotten. It was a religious name, one he'd approved of greatly. At one time, it didn't matter what he'd done, what he'd forgotten, or what he'd remembered, his Faith was always there, even if he hadn't realized it. Emmanuel had had Faith, he'd believed in his Father, put his unyielding trust in the Lord and believed He would show him the way. Of course that had been then, when his home was still open and his brothers were still alive and full of Grace, when there was still a chance of redemption. Emmanuel was a man of Faith, Faith he now questioned, Faith he was sure was lost on him, on the Host, and on the Father himself. He was no more Emmanuel than he was Castiel.

_"What's your name?" _The man had asked. And he was- he was _hurt_ by how much he didn't have a name. It was only a name, letters scrambled together to make his identity. But it was just that, his identity. It was who he was, he was Castiel, Angel of the Lord...except now he wasn't. Every tie he'd ever had to Heaven -to Home- was now well and truly destroyed. He was shocked by the pain in his chest, it felt tight and heavy and hard to breathe and so...so _sad_. He can count the number of times on one hand where he'd felt the need to be saved, to be looked after and cared for, for once instead of being the savior or the warrior who wasn't supposed to feel this need ever, yet here it was, strong and powerful and making his heart race and his face flush. He remembered Meg, the vivacious female demon who had somehow wormed her way into his being. When he had awoken in that mental hospital, terrified and alone, she had been there, like angels were supposed to be but had forgotten somewhere along the way. It was a sad day in Heaven when he realized the demon Meg could do an angel's job better than an angel. Meg was brilliant and full of life and now his heart ached for her like hadn't really done before. The tightness in his chest became unbearably crushing, halting his breathing for a quick moment. The thought of Meg, with her strange references he did not quite understand, made his eyes prick painfully and his sight became bleary. She had never called him by his name, she had opted for something different. Something nobody had called him, not once, in his centuries of living -not even Dean, who had called him an array of interesting things, but nothing quite like Meg's. The thought changed the feeling in his chest, changing it to a soft sort of fondness that managed to make the grasp of tightness loosen, Meg didn't know -nor would she ever, he realized painfully- that she had brought to him a new identity. One to do with what he wished. One that did not have the same relentless Faith the others had. One that was given to him by a dear friend and one whose every use would be in memory of the demon who had stood with and for an angel, dying in battle, like a true warrior, whilst doing so.

He smiled softly, the prick in his eyes no longer one of sadness, but rather of something a little warmer with just an inkling of cold, _"Clarence. _My name is _Clarence."_


End file.
